A Heart-Song of To-day Part 38

"Don't go, Robert, I want you to dine with us at seven; only the Marchmonts."

"Thank you, Lady Esmondet, I shall be with you, but for the present, _au revoir_ as I have even-song."

"I am grieved at this," said Lionel sadly, "for something tells me I shall have to go; I have known very little of Uncle Vincent; you are aware, dear Lady Alice, that he and my poor father were not friendly; my cousin is independent; and as I said before self-reliant to the last degree."

"It will not be so hard for her in that case," said Lady Esmondet.

"I am selfish enough to regret we have anyone to dinner, if I am obliged to leave you on to-morrow."

"I was just thinking so," said Lady Esmondet, "our evenings together have been perfect, but alas for changes; and Vaura, dear, the landau is at the door, you know we arranged for a drive."

"Yes, I remember, but let it wait."

"We may not have another opportunity, Lionel, for private converse; you will write; and Vaura and I shall (D.V.) be at London on the 4th or 5th; and shall meet you again at Haughton Hall."

"Yes, I shall meet you there," he answered thoughtfully; "my plans are not yet matured, but I want you to be _certain_ to telegraph me of your return; I shall meet you at London."

"Fate is cruel to send you away, and at Christmas, but I am forgetting your poor uncle," said Vaura kindly.

"I shall telegraph of our return without fail, Lionel; and now about yours to your cousin, had you not best run away and attend to it, we shall only take a short drive, and be here as soon as you."

"Come with us," said Vaura, "it will save time."

"So it will, and to kill the time I feel that is left to me with you, would be a Sacrilege."

"What route do you take, Lionel?" enquired his friend.

"You are aware I have a commission for Clayton, at Florence, so must first go thither, thence to Bologna, then to Turin, Paris, Calais, Dover and London."

"Shall I ring for Somers, G.o.dmother dear, to bring your cloak and bonnet, while I go and don my wraps?"

"Thank you, yes."

Trevalyon, now going quickly to do his friend's side, said:

"I have but a moment, but I want you to know that this mischief is brewing for me at the Hall, and it has rapidly fermented; 'society,'

tasting of its bubbles."

"I was sure of it, Lionel, and it is the brew of that woman and Major Delrose."

"Yes; and their aim is so to damage my reputation that I cannot gain the woman, and the only one I have ever longed for as my own loved wife."

"Heaven grant that there machiavelian manoevres may end in failure."

Here the sweet face and small white plush bonnet, scarlet strings and feathers appear at the door, so a truce to confidentials.

"I shall be so lonely if Fate takes me out of your life even for a short time," and Vaura's hand is tightly clasped as he a.s.sists her into the landau.

"We shall be lonely also."

"I hope so."

"I must say our lives have been very complete at the villa," said Lady Esmondet; "our cup of content has been full."

"To the brim;" and his eyes turn at last from Vaura's face as he says, "you had better drop me here, at the telegraph office while you turn into the Corso," and stepping from the landau, lifting his hat he was gone.

"I wonder," said Vaura, "should poor Sir Vincent die, if Miss Trevalyon will return to New York."

"I am sure of it; Lionel tells me his cousin dislikes English life as much as she likes that of her ain countree."

Vaura fell into a reverie; after some moments, waking to herself, said:

"I did not show you the interesting epistle I received from Mrs.

Haughton, in which she says, 'society' hath it that Capt. Trevalyon rejoices in a 'hidden wife.'"

"A pure invention got up to hurt him."

"But why?" she asked with a.s.sumed carelessness.

"Because he is not at a certain woman's feet, she has joined herself with black Delrose, his enemy of years, is my surmise, and I think the _denouement_ will prove me correct."

"Poor dear uncle; his life is not an idyl."

"His mistake, Vaura, _ma chere_, is a weight of care to me, that I try in vain to shake off;" and something very like a tear glistened as she spoke.

The friends were unusually silent in the drive home. Arrived there they separated to dress for dinner; Vaura threw herself on her lounge to rest and think. "Poor, uncle Eric, what a woman he has put on the shackles of matrimony for; and now her attempt to injure our friend; poor Lion, my heart is full of pity for you and you do not know it, because you cannot speak until the "difficulty" is overcome; ah! me, what a world of lies it is, for that this 'hidden wife,' is a myth, and an inspiration from Lucifer to Madame, I am quite sure of. But alas! should their be one grain of truth in the bushel of lies, and that he cannot prove to 'society's' satisfaction that 'twas only a grain of youthful folly, that his manhood in its n.o.bility had nothing to do with it. If he cannot do this, then he will never ask me to be anything more to him than what I shall always be, his friend; poor darling, what with his father's grief at his misguided mother's frailty, he has drank deep of the waters of bitterness; the unruly member set in motion by scandal, envy, hatred, or malice as motive power, is more to be dreaded as agent of evil, than dynamite in any form. But I must ring for Saunders and dress for dinner."

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

SOCIETY'S VOTARIES SMILE THOUGH THEY DIE.

"Here are some roses, Mademoiselle; the Captain cut them before he went out and bid me keep them fresh for you."

"Very well, Saunders, I shall wear them this evening; that is, the yellow ones; put the others in a vase, or give them to me, I shall, while you get out my ruby velvet; I am pale; it is high waist and no sleeves; take out my gold ornaments and bracelets--the plain gold bands; an old lace collar, with roses, shall be my neck-gear; hand me my vinagrette; I have a slight headache; and please comb my hair gently, it will be pleasant, yes; that will do."

"Your hair is a fortune to you Mademoiselle, so long and thick."

"Yes, it is, but I like it best because of its fluffiness; it is no trouble; weatherproof and waterproof.

"So it is, Mademoiselle."

"Now for my gown."

"It fits beautiful, Mademoiselle."